'Tis Britain's care to watch o'er Europe's fate; And hold in balance each contending State ! To threaten bold presumptuous Kings with war; And answer her afflicted neighbours' prayer! The Dane and Swede, roused up by fierce alarms, Bless the wise conduct of her pious Arms! Soon as her Fleets appear, their terrors cease; And all the Northern World lies hushed in peace! Th' ambitious Gaul beholds, with secret dread, Her thunder aimed at his aspiring head; And fain her Godlike sons would disunite By foreign gold, or by domestic spite: But strives in vain to conquer, or divide; Whom NASSAU'S Arms defend, and counsels guide! Fired with the name, while I so oft have found The distant climes and different tongues resound, I bridle in my struggling Muse with pain! That longs to launch into a bolder strain. But I've already troubled you too long; Nor dare attempt a more advent'rous Song; My humble Verse demands a softer theme, A painted meadow, or a purling stream! Unfit for Heroes! whom immortal Lays, And lines like VIRGIL'S, or like yours, should praise! SONGS FROM ROSAMOND BENEATH Some hoary mountain, Where feathered quires combining O, THE pleasing, pleasing anguish! Thoughts surprising! Charms transporting! Joys ensuing! O, the pleasing, pleasing anguish ! IF 'tis joy to wound a Lover, PROLOGUE TO ADDISON'S TRAGEDY OF CATO. 1713. To wake the Soul, by tender strokes of Art! In pitying Love, we but our weakness show; Here, tears shall flow from a more gen'rous cause; A brave man struggling in the storms of Fate; While CATO gives his little Senate laws; Showed Rome, her CATO's figure drawn in State; Britons, attend! Be worth like this approved; And shew you have the virtue to be moved! With honest scorn, the first famed CATO viewed Rome learning arts from Greece; whom she subdued. Our Scene precariously subsists too long On French Translation, and Italian Song! Dare to have sense yourselves! Assert the Stage! Be justly warmed with your own native rage! Such Plays alone should please a British ear, As CATO's self had not disdained to hear. THE SOLILOQUY OF CATO. CATO, Solus, sitting in a thoughtful posture. In his hand, PLATO's book on The Immortality of the Soul. A drawn sword on a table by him. IT must be so! PLATO, thou reason'st well! Or whence this secret dread and inward horror 'Tis Heaven itself, that points out an Hereafter; And intimates Eternity to Man! Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful thought! Through what variety of untried Being, Through what new scenes and changes, must we pass ! The wide, th' unbounded, prospect lies before me; But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it! Here, will I hold! If there's a Power above us (And that there is, all Nature cries aloud |